The End of America & the rest of the world Read online

The End of America

  & the rest of the world

  Brian Smith

  Copyright 2014

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  Aliens

  Going Home

  Asteroid

  Water

  Oil

  The Survivor

  Zeus

  The Time Machine

  Aliens

  Professor Laurel D. Crosthwaite was a tall handsome man with dark blond hair and light blue eyes. As a military strategist he often travelled to both sides of the Atlantic to take part in meetings, more often than not secret ones. But the purpose of his present visit was rather more unusual. He stood on the podium of the huge conference hall in New York and looked down at his audience. It was the last day of the International Conference on Extraterrestrial Relations. Many of the previous speakers had concentrated on the opportunities humanity could hope for in the event of contact with an alien civilization, very often hopes of technological advancement and peaceful cooperation with other species. But he was an expert on military affairs and as such his speech was much more morose.

  "Imagine," he said looking down at his audience, "imagine for a moment a clash between a modern army and the military forces of World War One. What would be the outcome? How would the most advanced navies and armies of 1914 fare in a battle with a single aircraft carrier battle group of today?"

  He paused for a moment to let his words sink in and give the audience time to consider the question. From the thoughtful and interested faces he could see that the unexpected start of his speech had had the desired effect of arousing interest and drawing in his audience, many of whom were either disinterested in military questions or even hostile to them.

  "I think," he continued, "that the answer is obvious. Of course the captain of a battleship would have confidence in the power of the huge guns on his ship, but what use would they be against a missile fired from a ship or plane a hundred miles away? In fact a single nuclear submarine could wipe out all the world's navies of 1914 without the slightest risk to itself.

  The armies of the day would not have done any better. What hope could a cavalry regiment have against modern tanks, machine guns and air power? The result of such a clash would not be a battle but quite simply a massacre. Modern forces would have absolute superiority and the use of weapons that people in 1914 could not even imagine would ensure that there would be no casualties on the side of modern forces. Jet fighters, helicopter gunships, guided missiles, bulletproof vests or even night vision goggles were not even science fiction in 1914.

  That is the result of a mere hundred years of technological progress. In the same one hundred years we have barely managed to visit our moon and as for Mars, the nearest planet in our solar system, it's still an unrealized dream to fly there. If a century of technological progress couldn't get us to Mars, how much time will we need to reach the nearest star? How much time will we need to develop a technology that would get us to the nearest civilization in our galaxy? Another hundred years? Two hundred? A thousand?"

  He picked up a glass and took a swig of water while his audience were beginning to understand where his train of thought was leading them to.

  "Consider then how advanced any civilization would have to be to bridge the vast distances in space in order to reach the Earth. By comparison, our most advanced technology would seem no more impressive to aliens than a stone age flint-stone would appear to us. We may draw the same conclusion as regards military technology. Our guided missiles, jet fighters and nuclear weapons would be no more use against a potential alien aggressor than a stone-age club or spear would be of use against a modern tank or helicopter gunship. Now I know it is sometimes said that there would be nothing to fear from an advanced species as it is somehow taken for granted that advances in science and technology bring about a desire for peaceful co-existence with other. Examples from our own planet are not encouraging. In fact it is very often advanced civilizations that are the most aggressive and cruel to others. Take the late 1930s for example. Nazi Germany was leading in the fields of science and technology and yet this knowledge was used for destructive purposes and mass murder. Indeed, the very fact of their technological superiority meant that the Nazis regarded other people as being inferior and didn't feel guilty about enslaving or killing them. And that, one must emphasize, is within the same species. When we look at how humans behave towards other species the picture gets even bleaker. How many species have we humans hunted to extinction or near extinction? Is there any reason to believe aliens could not be equally brutal and murderous towards us?

  While Professor Laurel D. Crosthwaite was going on with his speech a very different kind of meeting was being held several hundred miles away in rural America. Financed by the eccentric oil tycoon, billionaire and lover of antiquity, Arthur Jackson, several hundred speakers of Latin from around the world had come together for one month in New Pompey. Modelled on the ancient town of Pompey in Italy any visitor could be forgiven for thinking he had just come through a time warp. Surrounded by a town wall were narrow cobbled streets that led past Roman villas with colonnaded interior gardens and fountains. There were small merchants selling wine and food, clothes and books, and many other items. At the entrance to each shop a mosaic in the floor advertised what was available. There was a bank where copper and silver coins could be obtained. There were craftsmen who made sundry items such as Roman glass, leather wares and iron tools. There were even a few public buildings that would have been central to life such as a theatre and amphitheatre, public baths and a library. The inhabitants of this extraordinary theme park all spoke Latin and even if their language skills were not up to those of a Roman, everyone was having fun while improving and practicing their spoken Latin. All this Arthur Jackson had paid for. He had even paid for the participants' air fares just to make sure that his dream of seeing a pukka Roman town come to life would be fulfilled.

  The only things absent from New Pompey were any signs of modern life: modern clothing, telephones, electrical equipment and the like had all been banned to ensure a genuine atmosphere.

  After the arrival of the last participants the town gates had been closed and everyone began their new lives. A blacksmith was pounding away at red hot iron making horseshoes, nails, pots and even armour; a cobbler was cutting leather to make shoes; and legionaries were patrolling the town wall or exercising in their barracks.

  Others were preparing a play for the theatre and carefully choreographed show-fights for the amphitheatre to entertain the townsfolk after a hard day's work.

  There were even children of various ages from a number of high schools who were happy to offer their students the unique opportunity of immersion in a Latin language environment for a few weeks.

  Presiding over his town was Arthur Jackson, the self-elected magistrate whose aim it was to go down in history as a benign ruler, loved and respected by his new fellow citizens. He wore a white toga like that of a true patrician and on his arm a thick heavy gold bangle proclaiming victory in Germania. His hair was dark and curly as might be found in Italy. And even if his pale eyes and skin betrayed his more northern origins this didn't really matter.

  On the evening of that day the tired yet happy inhabitants prepared to go to bed early as their new life meant getting up at first dawn. A few oil lamps that still shone from windows gave light in the dimly lit streets and torches at the town gates and other importa
nt areas helped the legionaries who had been posted on night watch see in the dark.

  At the same time Professor Crosthwaite was enjoying his dinner after a much applauded speech that had ended the conference. From the restaurant window the lights of vibrant New York provided an unforgettable spectacle, a colourful background to the people of that great city; the young mother holding her little bundle of joy, delighted at the first smile and looking forward to many years of happiness; the boys and girls playing with their toys after a day at school; men and women watching TV, going to the theatre or cinema or entertaining themselves in all the other ways that a city such as New York made possible; there were pensioners and veterans who were enjoying the final years of life with the peace and quiet that comes after life's obligations have been fulfilled.

  Later that night radar screens at NORAD showed numbers of objects entering the atmosphere above North America. Fighter jets from around North America were scrambled to meet the rapidly descending craft. None of them got nearer than two hundred miles to the alien craft before contact was lost and they simply vanished from radar. Less than three minutes later New York, Miami, Toronto and other cities were reached by the attacking spacecraft. The alien weapons systems targeted the cities and disintegrated the atomic structure that binds all matter. In a split second skyscrapers, cars, people and everything else was turned into huge clouds of dust.

  "Run, run, run," secret service agents yelled as they rushed the President and his family out of the White House into a helicopter. The helicopter lifted off and headed out of town at top speed.

  "What the hell is going on?" the President shouted into a telephone.

  On the other end was General Hawson in command at NORAD. "We're under sudden sustained attack, sir. They're shooting down our fighters and they've taken out several cities."

  The President looked out of the window back at Washington DC. The millions of lights were bright in the night. Then there came a sudden purple light from above and everything was gone.

  "Mr. President," the general went on, "we've reports of catastrophic losses coming in from all sides and our satellite images show that in about seven minutes half of America's population has been wiped out. You've got to hit them now. In ten or fifteen minutes it'll be too late."

  The last President of the United States gave one last order. In a desperate bid to stop the attackers he transmitted the launch codes of the entire nuclear arsenal and authority for military commanders to acquire targets and fire at will. Seconds later the presidential helicopter was reduced to a cloud of dust as the alien craft sought out and attacked anything with an electrical current in it. Towns and cars, planes and ships, power plants and farms - nothing escaped the vicious attack. Hundreds of missiles carrying nuclear warheads left their silos around the country. Submarines at sea fired their deadly cargo.

  None of them reached their targets.

  The following morning it was all over. Cars, ships and planes didn't exist anymore. All that was left were billions of tons of toxic dust that poisoned the air, rivers, lakes and oceans. Dead and dying fish, birds and other animals were everywhere. The wind blew toxic dust that had once been a great city across the country, covering remnants of highways and building up into slow moving dunes. Across the globe these scenes were repeated a thousandfold showing that the end of humanity had come and that nature, when she had recovered from the destruction, would once again reign supreme over planet Earth.

  And yet, in spite of the unprecedented destruction that had swept across the planet, some people were still alive. In the distant jungles of New Guinea and Africa some tribes still unaffected by modern civilization lived their lives as before. Occasional campers, cave explorers and even some obscure religious communities survived. Many of them perished as they tried to make their way back to civilization but only found lethal dust everywhere. Some managed to eke out a living in the wilderness so that new families sprang up here and there.

  But the single largest community of humans was at New Pompey. The 643 people of that town thought they were only playing an elaborate game and having some fun during the summer when in fact they had become the only town left not only in America but on the entire globe.

  In a stroke of fortune dark clouds came over night that brought rain to the area. For hundreds of miles around the town raindrops began their work of dampening the dust and then washing it away so that nature could breathe freely again. It rained for three whole days leaving the people of New Pompey oblivious to what had happened around them.

  But after a fortnight the town's supplies were beginning to run low and guards were on the look-out all day for the supply convoy that was to bring all the necessities needed by the townsfolk till the end of their stay there.

  Magistrate Arthur Jackson stood on one of the watchtowers of the town gate and gazed into the distance along the road. The sun was setting and he was beginning to get concerned. There were still enough supplies for two or three days left in the town, but he couldn't understand what had prevented the convoy from coming.

  "If the convoy hasn't come by the morning," he said to the centurion in charge of the legionaries, "send out some men on horseback to find out what's going on." The centurion gave a Roman salute and Jackson turned to go back to his villa. On the way he made a mental note to fire whoever was responsible for the delay.

  Dawn came and went without any sign from the outside world, so at sunrise the centurion gave the necessary orders and two horsemen set out. The town gates shut behind them and as soon as they were out of earshot they switched to English.

  "What d'ya say Jack? Shall we have a nice cold beer at that gas station near the highway? I'm kinda getting tired of warm wine mixed with water."

  "Hey, yea man. Besides it'll be fun walking in there dressed up as we are. Ain't we gonna give 'em truckers something to talk about!"

  Jack and Chuck had become the best of friends in the fortnight they had spent together and coming from the same town had done much to cement the bonds of friendship.

  After a two hour ride they approached the site of the highway and where the lane they were on met up with the gas station. Coming over a little hill the two men stopped their horses.

  "What the hell!" exclaimed Chuck while Jack simply stared aghast. He let his eyes wander along the lane to the spot where the gas station should have been. Now there was nothing but a hollow filled with pallid dust. As he looked along the highway the scene was even more incredible. There were a number of craters at different intervals, some larger some smaller, yet all of them filled with the same grey material. There were no vehicles in sight nor any signs of human life for that matter. In fact there was nothing at all apart from stretches of broken and damaged highway.

  Jack shook his head in disbelief. "There must be a war going on," he said thinking about his wife and little son back home.

  "What the fuck do we do now, Jack," Chuck asked. "Shall we ride to the next town? There's gotta be somebody there."

  Jack went over the problem in his mind and slowly shook his head. "No, Chuck, I'll ride on alone. It's a good twenty-five miles to the nearest town. We'd never make it there and get back to New Pompey today. You'll have to ride back and let the others know what we've seen."

  Chuck nodded in assent. "All right, man. We'll be waiting for you, so keep out of trouble." He watched his friend ride down the hill and onto the ruined highway before he turned his horse for the weary way back.

  Meanwhile Jack rode along the old highway carefully going around each crater he came upon. He had discovered that the dust in it was soft and almost oily to the touch. What it was he had no idea, but he was sure that he'd better keep away from it.

  Early in the evening he was still miles away from the town and realized he wouldn't get there before nightfall. Seeing an orchard not far from the highway he turned his horse in the hope of finding a farmhouse to take shelter in. Riding under apple trees he reached up and picked one. The one piece of bread he'd had along was long go
ne and he was famished. Surely the farmer wouldn't grudge him an apple or two? Yet once again he was in for a disappointment. As he left the orchard he found the driveway leading to the farmhouse or rather where the house had been. Gazing at the dust he shook his head. What kind of war could have such an effect? His gaze followed the driveway and saw some grain silos. He rode to the silos and tethered his tired horse to a railing. He climbed one of the silos. It was brimful of grain. "Who would attack a farmhouse and leave a silo intact?" he wondered. Nothing he had seen made any sense. Behind a silo he saw a wooden shed. He quickly ran towards it and opened the door. There was a bench with tools and some buckets and boxes under it. An old oil lamp hung in one corner connected to the walls by years of cobwebs that generations of spiders had diligently spun. Higher up still hung a shotgun that looked as if it had been in more recent use. He looked around for something to stand on as it was too high to reach. In a corner next to a dusty cabinet was a chair. He pulled it away. Suddenly a desperate scream came from the corner that made Jack jump backwards in shock. There had been an eerie quiet all day and the sudden sound made his heart race. But then the sight that greeted him made him laugh in a way only comic relief can cause after a day of dread. A little boy of seven or eight was crouching there and bravely holding a penknife in front of him. Between his legs an even smaller dog was growling threateningly.

  "Please don't hurt me," the boy said after a moment.

  "I'm not here to hurt you, kiddo. I'm just looking for someone, anyone who can tell me what happened here."

  The boy looked at his unusual clothing with distrust. "Are you one of them? Are you one of the aliens?"

  "Aliens? Hell no, this is just a costume. I'm with a bunch of friends and we're playing Romans."

  The boy eyed him with tears in his eyes. He was aware of Romulans as they had featured in some Star Trek episodes, but Romans were something new for him. The look of pity in Jack's face finally persuaded him. Bursting into tears he ran forward and hugged Jack with all his might. Jack felt the young boy's body tremble and shake uncontrollably. After a few minutes the lad calmed down again.

  "My name's Jack," the older man began. "I've a wife back home and my son is much like you. Wherever he is now I hope there's someone to take care of him just like I'm gonna take care of you. You don't have to be afraid of me. Now can you tell me what happened here?"

  Still sobbing the boy slowly began to speak. "My name's Tom. It was at night. I was already in bed when I heard Jasper barking outside. I told him to keep quiet but he just wouldn't and my dad often gets angry when he hears Jasper barking."

  "Doesn't he like Jasper?"

  Tom shook his head. "I don't know why but dad always says that Jasper's no good as a farm dog. Anyway I quickly went outside to make Jasper quiet before dad got woken. Jasper wouldn't lie down or do what I told him to. He just kept pulling at my trouser leg, so I followed him into the open on the field. Then everything happened so quickly." Again he began to tremble and looked at Jack as more tears ran down his face. "First it was just a purple light. It came from far away," he said pointing in the direction the highway led to. "Every time it came to a car or truck on the highway there was a strange light and then the truck would be gone. It just took a few seconds to reach us here and then my home was gone, and ..."

  Jack took Tom in his arms again and held him for a while as the little boy dealt with the agony and despair of a child who has lost both his parents.

  After a quiet restful night that they spent in the shed the sun rose bathing everything in a warm glow. They had a breakfast of apples and corn and then set out to ride into town. Considering all he had seen and what Tom had told him Jack wasn't at all sure whether they would find much there, but they had to try anyway. It was a strange sight, a Roman horseman with a boy sitting in front of him riding along a ruined highway.

  It was late in the forenoon before they reached the site of the town. Jack halted his horse. Next to the highway was a vast expanse of the same dust he had seen before. It was clear that the entire town had suffered the same fate as the farmhouse. In the vicinity he noticed quite a number of dead birds and other animals. There was no point in going on so without a word he turned his horse back towards New Pompey.

  In the weeks and months that followed the Pompeyans under the benevolent leadership of their magistrate Arthur Jackson made numerous attempts to establish contact, but all to no avail. Wherever they went they discovered the same depressing devastation. The only ray of hope was that much of the agricultural land that surrounded the town was in good condition and so Pompeyans busied themselves at learning how to become farmers. The crop was plentiful and there was far more than they could ever hope to harvest. They were still benefiting from an agriculture that had been mechanized and organized by professional farmers. But they also knew that this was the last time they would live a life of plenty. In the years to come all the ploughing and sowing would have to be done by hand or with the help of their horses.

  Two-hundred-and-seventy-three years later Joshua the Mighty sat upon his horse looking down the hill into the valley below. Arrayed on the slope was his army, the bravest, the most valiant of men all of whom were ready to die defending GOD. His people had long kept apart from the society of others, even in the days before the Wrath of God had swept the vile and sordid world of Satan away giving God's people the chance to spread across the empty land - or so they had thought until they encountered the Pompeyans. Joshua spat on the ground.

  "What is it, Sire?" his attendant asked.

  "Pompeyans," Joshua said as though that explained everything. "The pox and pestilence upon them. They have so many books and not one about God. Their republic is an abomination in the eyes of our Lord. Their language is not that of the holy scripture and they and their ways are that Satan stands for."

  Further down the valley the Pompeyan legionaries were marching up in battle formation.

  "And yet they are formidable soldiers, Sire."

  Joshua spat again. "That they are, young man. And do you know why He spared them when there was the great reckoning?"

  The attendant tried to find an answer but Joshua just went on oblivious to the fact that the younger man had taken his question seriously.

  "They were spared by our Lord to test us; it is a trial, a tribulation; a way of seeing the strength of our belief in Him and our resolve to do as He would have us do. And today is that day. A day of expiation when we will finally crush the followers of Satan in the Glory of His name."

  Seeing that his men were ready he gave the signal and his holy warriors charged down the slope at the legionaries.

  It was a long and bloody day for while the legionaries were better equipped and made use of superior tactics, the holy warriors made up for this want with their fanaticism and a total disregard for their own lives. The battle raged and both sides committed their last reserves before nightfall finally put an end to the battle and the two battered armies withdrew to their camps. Strewn across the battlefield were numerous corpses and hacked off limbs, blood and gore were everywhere. It had been a day of immense suffering on both sides. Only the crows and vultures delighted in the unexpected feast.

  High above the battlefield, too high for the naked eye to make out, an alien craft flew by. The craft's commander was satisfied. He himself had taken part in the sterilization of this planet and he was pleased that it had worked so well. It was unthinkable that a rival civilization would be allowed to develop in his sector of space. He was proud in the knowledge that he was always thorough in his work. The scenes of the primitive battle he had just seen showed that the planet would not make further action necessary for some time.

  "After all," he thought, "this planet was quite valuable with its oxygen rich atmosphere. And since the great Galactic Colonization and Development Co. had bought it the directors expected him to ensure shareholders would not lose any money. A planet containing intelligent life was worthless as it would be protected under law. But a planet
showing the absence of electricity officially counted as being devoid of intelligent life. He meant to keep this planet without electricity, even if it meant breaking the law. But then, it was far away from any other civilized place, so who would ever know?"